


senseless shouting calmed to quiet in her ancient memory

by constanted



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Let Lucretia Love Her Friends 2kforever, Team as Family, far too angsty, three for the price of one!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-20 21:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11929812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/constanted/pseuds/constanted
Summary: Or: Three times Lucretia tells someone what she's done.Or: Three times Lucretia doesn't.





	1. on mistakes, unchanged - magnus

**Author's Note:**

> uh. here's a new thing!
> 
> let's talk about could-have-beens that never could-have-been. let's talk about lucretia Being Sad And Loving Her Friends. let's talk about lucretia, and how much i love her, and how much nuance she has. (She Has Never Done Anything Wrong In Her Life And I Know This And I Love Her.)
> 
> so: were this fic's premise not clear from the vagueass description and tags: this is three aus that basically consist of each member of thb getting inoculated before reuinion tour. it should be p clear when each one is set. first we got magnus! with some obligatory julia references, because it's me writing this.

“Having a nice swim?” she asks, because she can’t resist the one liner. Her flair for the dramatic is going to bite her in the ass, someday.

(Well, it probably already has. She’s repressed a _lot_ of pain, that inflicted from things biting her in the ass included, these last one hundred and ten or so years).

“Madam Director,” he says, and he spits out some water. He hastily jumps down the ladder, throws on his shirt, and crumples a piece of paper in his hand.

“I’m—I’m not mad,” she says, because how could she be? Magnus had raised Fisher like they were his own child, he’d have to be drawn to them at some point. She could erase bonds, but she couldn’t truly break them. But, she slips back into the moment, into the version of herself that she has to play for him, “Well, you’re—you’re breaking about seventy rules, but. I’m not angry, Magnus. Why swim with the Voidfish?”

“Sorta a, uh. Spur of the moment, uh, impulse, thing, like. Uh. Magnus rushes in! Y’know. My whole schtick? You know.”  
  
She snorts, “You’re a terrible liar.” 

He laughs, awkward.

“Was it the Chalice?” she asks, “I—I told you that I thought it among the most—it was the relic I was the most terrified of. If I could fix my mistakes,” she sighs, “Gods. I would be entirely different.”

He says, “Kind of? It was—what kind of person would _make_ that kind of—Red Robes, obviously, but, like, _who?_ ”

And the fist with the paper in it somehow clenches even tighter.

She thinks, for a moment, “I’m not entirely sure they intended to do the damage they did,” and then, “I’m—Magnus. Can I show you something?”  
  
It’s the rush of the moment, it’s the bile climbing up in her throat while she sees him about to throw all of his wrath at his twenty year-old self.

(He was exactly two months older than her, and he’d never let her forget it, back in the day. Her arguments that age didn’t matter, anymore, and that time didn’t work the same in every single plane they visited, and that she died significantly less than him so she had technically lived longer, none of them mattered to him.)

(He’d call her his baby sister, in the occasions when they had lied about their identities to strangers so as to secure shelter or food or something. And he’d treat her like his baby sister, in those and any other occasion).

(Gods, she misses him).

She looks up at him, fully clothed in pajamas now, and he’s so, so different than he used to be.

“Let’s—it’s in my office. I—I need to show _someone_ , Magnus, it’s. It’s been—for years. And if I show you,” she says, “I said I could fix my mistakes with the Chalice, Magnus, but I think I can fix my mistakes without it, too. And this would be a start.”

She smiles, and she shuts her eyes. They walk.

“Madam Director,” he says.

“Lucretia. The Bureau is only open from six AM to one-thirty AM, and it’s two in the morning.”

“Uh, Lucretia, then,” he pulls out the ball of wrinkled paper from his pocket, “The girl who had the Chalice gave me this. I—I haven’t shown anybody, and I don’t even know what it _means_ , but—if you know anything, please tell me, cuz this is keeping me up, and—“  
  
“What did the Chalice show you, Magnus?” she asks, instead of taking the paper.

“My wife,” he says, “Lucretia, this is—”

She continues walking, and continues avoiding eye contact, “I didn’t know you’d been married,” and while she can knows the answer from a stealthy wedding crash, she asks, “What was her name?”  
  
“Julia.”  
  
“And you’re—you led the Raven’s Roost Rebellion, yes? By any chance, was your wife Julia Waxmen? I know that—of course, there were a few Julias in Raven’s Roost, but—“  
  
“You—you knew Julia?”

“Your use of the past tense is concerning, but I commissioned things from her several years back, yes.”

“She’s dead. She was amazing.”  
  
“She was. I’m sorry for your loss.”

She enters her office, lets down the shields to the vault, and types in the familiar code of 3-5-2-5-8-6-6. The door slides open, and she ushers Magnus into a chair.

“Eleven years ago, Magnus, I—I decided to take my fate into my own hands, but—I told Merle this, I lost the six most important people in my life in the process. Do you want a drink?”  
  
“The Voidfish, it—there’s a second one in there, isn’t there?” He points at the tank.  
  
“Magnus, it—It’ll make sense in a moment, I promise.”  
  
“I don’t trust you,” he says. She realizes how suspicious she might sound, now, and she takes the ball of paper out of his hand to see what he knows.

(Of fucking _course_ the man had to get himself immortalized in stone. Were the situation not so grim, and were things not the way that they were, she would have made fun of him for hours over this).

“Magnus,” she says, and she sighs, “I. The second Voidfish is in the tank. Drink this.”  
  
He looks at her, dark eyes steely and confrontational, and without breaking eye contact, he drinks.

She says, first, “I’m sorry.”  
  
He lurches over.

“It’s a lot,” she says, “I know, I know, I know.”  


“You’re—you’re not s’posed to be fucking _fifty_ , you’re the youngest, we—” he says, first, and then, “What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?” and then, “Fuck, I’m gonna throw up.”  
  
“Don’t try and force it, Mags.”  
  
“Don’t call me that,” with venom.

The nickname feels wrong in her mouth after so much disuse anyway.

“I—“  
  
“The time for you to apologize was, uh, about twelve memories ago,” he says, and he lurches over again, grabs his stomach.

(She had considered, when Junior was born, not drinking the ichor before she put in the information. She had considered allowing herself a moment of catharsis before going back to Knowing. But seeing this, seeing the physical pain this man that she loves is in, she does not regret drinking immediately. A moment of peace is not worth the pain he looks to be in).

“Magnus. Don’t try and sound kickass right now, I’m not a supervillain. I’m—I didn’t think it would take as long as it did.”  
  
“I—You piece of shit.”  
  
She winces. 

“I was—I’ll admit that I was myopic. That I _am_ myopic. But the—this world was eating itself alive, Magnus, and it was our fault. _You_ asked me who could create such a thing as the Chalice, like they were the worst being who ever lived, and—my plan will _work,_ Magnus. It’s plan B! You said so.”  
  
“I said a lot of things! Barry and Lup said—“  
  
“Barry and Lup said a lot of things, too.”  
  
“Don’t cry,” his hand is on her shoulder. His nails have chipped blue paint on them, she notices, and there are new scars on his fingers.

“Hypocrite,” she fires back, noticing the hitch in his voice and the red in his eyes. But she softens herself, “I’ve missed you. I—I really have. You’re. I—.”  
  
He hugs her, and she nearly falls apart. Of course. Of course, of course, of course.

“You didn’t have to do it alone,” he says, “You coulda—“  
  
“I’ve survived by myself before, Magnus, and I’ve done well. And I’ve done it again.”

He shakes his head.

“We gotta tell the boys.”  
  
“Taako will—“  
  
“Within good fucking reason.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
“I—I won’t.”  
  
“You won’t kill me,” she deadpans, “What a relief, Magnus, how blessed am I, on this fine morning.”  
  
“Don’t go into Madam Director-Mode right now.”

She sighs, “It’s not really a mode. More of a default,” He shakes his head at that, and she continues, “I’ve missed you. I—all of you. I really have.”

“I know."  


"You don't have to forgive me."  
  
"I don't," he says, lightly, like he's not still got her in a hug, like he's not proving himself wrong with the very action of speaking to her, "But I will."


	2. on families, unbroken - merle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucretia gets drunk. Merle does too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merle has the least severe reaction to luc's actions, so this is the least dramatic chapter. it's mostly about Dad Feelings.
> 
> none of these stories are connected in anything except for theme, btw. magnus doesn't know in this chapter, merle doesn't know in the previous chapter, and those two boys don't know in the next chapter. if that weren't clear.

She’s drunk and she’s emotional, which is never a good combination. Merle’s next to her, and they’re heading back from the spa. He seems to be about equally drunk, mumble-singing some folk song off-key, half the lyrics almost definitely wrong.

She wonders if the forgetfulness that’s so clear in Merle is a her thing or an old man thing.

(Maybe she shouldn’t call him an old man, considering that, barring disaster, he’ll outlive her by another century. But, whatever, he’s an old man. He was born an old man, she had always said, to which someone, generally Lup, teasing, would respond, “Well, you were born an old woman, Cre, so I wouldn’t judge,”).

“I miss my friends,” she blurts out, upon realizing that Lup’s voice isn’t quite right in that memory.

“Ones you lost when you reclaimed your life, or whatever?”

He hiccups.

“Yes, I—I suppose.”

“I’m your friend,” he says, more confident than he’s been all day.

She repeats, quieter, “I suppose.”

“Just cuz you’re some intimidating authority figure doesn’t mean you can’t have friends, you’ve seen, ah, uh, any fantasy workplace comedy.”

“Back at my old—um. Job, I would call it, maybe. Before I quit,” she looks down, “It was different. There were seven of us.”

“Seven,” he repeats, like he's parsing it for meaning, for familiarity.

“There was a man in charge, though none of us—none of us really abided by that, huh?”

She laughs, and she remembers again that he doesn’t.

“I wanted things to be different, here, because it—it hurt, when things ended, there. More than anything else. But you’ve read books, Merle.”

“A few of ‘em.”

“Yes,” she shakes her head, “Stories need to end, Merle, that’s in their very nature. So—when this venture for me is over, the Bureau, the saving-the-world, I don’t want it to hurt. A clean break.”

“Little bit dramatic, huh?”

“Merle, I—I have something I’d like to give you. A thank you gift.”

He puts on a joking voice, “If you’re propositioning me, Madam Director, I’m not really—“

Bluntly, “I’m a lesbian, Merle. And you’re like—you’re like, my weird dad. And also, employer-employee dynamics, eugh. Lot of layers to this nasty-cake."

“I wouldn’t say we’re that close, Lucretia,” on the dad comment. He looks at her oddly, "Lookin' a little old to be mine, anyway."

And she sighs.

"I'm a shit dad," he says, by nature of word association.

She thinks about what she has to pretend to know and not know, and decides upon asking, "How many kids?"

"Two. One of 'em's mine, but I raised the other one for a solid eight years, too, so. You have any?"

"Never really had time to think about it. Never really wanted any."

They land on base, and she leads him to her office. He keeps talking.

"I think I'm gonna try and start visitin' my kids, more. Can I--can I arrange that with you or the cannon guy--"

"Avi. And I can arrange something, Merle," she smiles, "You're a good dad to, uh, those two. The boys."

(Merle's odd trait of, despite his frequent objections, adopting any given young person who gave a shit about him and trying to help them out, in his imperfect but utterly Merle way, had always charmed Lucretia. He's a good man, she thinks. A better man than most).

"Tell that to 'em and I swear, one of 'em'll scream."

She types in the code, her fingers almost slipping on the last digit.

She knows he'll forgive her, of all people. And she needs this.

"Preemptive hangover cure," she lies, slipping some ichor into a glass of water and sliding it over to him, "Back in my heyday, uh. We mastered it.

And he drinks.

And she waits.

"Oh."

"Yes."

"Explains... some of it."

"Not everything?"

"What the hell were you thinkin'?"

"I was thinking quite a few things. I didn't like seeing you hurting, seeing this world hurting."

He places the glass down.

"Anyone else know?"

"No. I didn't realize how long--how long. And--I got hurt. Looking for the bell. So."

"Yeah."

He sighs.

"I'm sorry," she says, "I tried to make sure you all were happy, but--"

"You can't see the future, kid."

"No," she says, "I suppose I can't."

There's the sound of hurried footfalls as someone enters her office.

"Do we--do we tell 'em?"

"I. The act is hard to keep up, Merle, but Taako."

"But Taako," he nods, "Still deserves to know, yeah?"

"He deserves it," she says, "He deserves the knowledge of her more than anybody."

"'Cept Gary Grimaldis."

She laughs, "Greg. But, uh. Gods."

He stands on his toes, touches her upper-arm, says, "I got you, kid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please review! i love you! next chapter'll be rough.


	3. on friends, unforgiven - taako

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucretia walks in on a scene that terrifies her. Taako drops his umbrella.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah

It’s coincidence that she smells smoke, and normally, she wouldn’t even question it, but Angus kept talking about magic lessons, and she really does worry about the boy.

She nearly drops the Staff when she sees the writing on the wall. Her hands shake. Her brain’s working at full capacity, all of the potentials, all of the variables—

  * One, Taako remembers.
  * Two, Barry, who she believes died in Phandolin, was absorbed into the Umbra Staff.
  * Three, Lup, somehow, was sucked into her own staff, which seems a bit below Lup’s intelligence.
  * Four, the lich ward is down and Barry or Lup is here, and she’s absolutely, entirely fucked.



And there are more, but they’re all even more impossible.

She rules out three, Lup was too smart for that. And she knows that the lich ward is up, she’s sure of it. And Taako—if Taako remembered, then so would everyone, and she’s positive that Davenport, at least, would have screamed at her by now. And Barry would have shown himself by now, so—

Fuck.

“It wasn’t—“ says Taako, and he looks Angus, “I didn’t do that.”  
  
And he looks at her, “I—“

And, unlike himself, he’s quiet. He’s staring at her, his back turned to the wall with his sister’s name carved into it.

“My office,” she says, trying to replace panic with stoicism, “ _Now._ Angus, go—go rest up.”  
  
She doesn’t say a word. She’s terrified. Magnus and Carey see them walking down a corridor, and Magnus teases, “Someone’s in _trouble_ ,” as Carey laughs loudly. Taako audibly hits Magnus’ arm with the Umbra Staff. She can’t see his face, but she can almost feel the daggers he’s glaring at his teammate. They enter her office, and after that, the corridor that follows.

Her hand is shaking.

“Taako, I—I have a tremor. The code to the next door is—it’s. Um. Three, five, two, five, eight, six, six.”

“Are you gonna fuckin’—explain why you’re dragging me back here?”  
  
“Do you know who Lup is?”  


“L-U-P, Lup? Like the umbrella’s shit?”  
  
“So—you. You don’t.”  
  
“Fucking weird name.”  
  
There’s an absence in his eyes that strikes fear into her heart, which is beating at a million miles a second, it feels.

“Taako,” she says, “Do you—do you ever feel like you’ve forgotten something important? To your—to your very _being_?”  
  
“Never really thought of it like that, my man.”

He’s completely and entirely alone, in this world she’s made for him. Sure, he has fans, he has Magnus and Merle and Angus, but he doesn’t have the person that made him _him_.

And that’s her fault, she thinks.

“The Umbra Staff is—I knew a woman who wielded one, once. Can I ask—where’d you find yours?”  
  
“Got it off a dead body. The old man tried to grab it first, but it tried to kill him, so, like, I took it, natch.”

“Yes, natch. Um. What—what did the dead body look like?”

“Skeletal?”  
  
“Specific. And—has it ever disobeyed you before?”  
  
“Shot fire like crazy one time, back in Goldcliff? How is any of this connected?”

She makes a decision.

“Do you want some wine?”  
  
“S’all gogurt to me.”

“I forgot about that,” she smiles, and, after popping the tiniest splash of ichor into a glass, she pops the cork off of an old bottle. 

“I—don’t think I’ve told you that, Lulu.”  
  
“Don’t call me that,” says a little bit too fast, and she winces, “And you have told me. Well. Not me directly. But you mentioned it at one of your shows. I was a—I was a fan. Back in the day.”

“Well,” he says, “Enchanté.”

She pours herself a glass, downs it in an instant, and pours herself another.

“To your umbrella,” she says.

“Why’d you insist I come back here?”  
  
Her fingers shake, her throat closes up.

“I—“

He takes a sip.

“Taako, I wanted to tell you first. I—“  
  
His voice cracks, “Ten.”

The Umbra Staff is at her chest.

“Taako,” she says, “Taako, I made a mistake.”  
  
He looks like he’s about to vomit, and she feels about the same.

“Nine.”  
  
She closes her eyes, pulls up a shield.

“Eight.”

“Taako, it—“  
  
“Sev—“

Instead of finishing the second syllable, his voice breaks, he drops the staff, and she drops hers.

He drops to the ground, and she drops to his side. She puts a hand on his shoulder, and he bats it away, with good reason. 

“ _You_ took her,” he says, and she feels like her body’s being surrounded by four walls, slowly closing in on her. She can’t move.

“I did,” she says.

“She’s in there,” he says.

“She’s not—she’d never forget to secure it—“  
  
“She absolutely would. And you don’t have the fucking _right_ to talk about her.”

She’s quiet, then, and she makes a second decision. She picks up the Umbra Staff, and she smashes it over the lich ward. The noise is piercing, and the light is painful, but she’s back, now, Lup is, and maybe he’ll—

Maybe he’ll hate her a little less.

She can’t forgive herself for ripping the heart out of a man she used to know like the back of her hand. She can’t forgive herself for that. And he can’t forgive her for it either.

A spectral hand touches her shoulder, and, despite its chill, there’s a warm feeling inside of her stomach.

“You don’t need to say anything,” she tells Lup, “You don’t need to forgive me.”  
  
And Lup says, “But I will, someday.”

Taako shakes his head no, mouths no, clenches his fist, but he doesn't correct Lup. He won't say it out loud, that she's unforgiven, but the two of them both know it.

There is an understanding between them.

Lucretia exhales.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure about the ending, but. lup!
> 
> please comment, if you're into that. i love you! and thanks for reading this, it really means a lot. i don't tend to write angsty things recreationally, so. uh. fic is rough.
> 
> love you!

**Author's Note:**

> up next is merle! which'll probably be the fluffiest. that'll be up soon.
> 
> on tumblr @yahooanswer.
> 
> title is from "all of everything, erased" by kevin devine.


End file.
